


Les Couleurs (A love story) by gairid

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:13:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: An older story (5/18/07) that I had not posted on AO3. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Les Couleurs (A love story) by gairid

Fic - Les Couleurs (a love story) by gairid

This story is rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, m/m sex. If you are under 18 you are warned!. L & L belong to Anne Rice and her publishers; I wrote this for love, not money.

Les Couleurs  
(Gairid)

Louis's soft moan is nearly inaudible with the drumming of the rain on the windowpanes. Lestat hears it because his ears are keen for any sound that Louis makes, just as his eyes can lately seem to focus clearly only upon the geometry that makes up the curves and planes and angles of Louis's unique space in Lestat's world.

The rain batters the window, driven by strong gusts of wind, and Louis rocks astride Lestat's lap, his legs splayed and doubled over themselves in a way that is completely enthralling to Lestat's eyes. Louis rides Lestat's cock with utter concentration and his green eyes are open but unfocused, the tender lids fluttering in his ecstasy. Lestat sees their pleasure in a triptych, folding in over itself so that the colors have run together and joined to form something new to him.

Louis's hungry kisses when he came home, wet and shivering, flared orange and lush pink and now Lestat's long deep strokes into Louis's body are scarlet. Louis's cries are splashed, bright yellows and later Lestat knows he will see Louis asleep, the luminous eyes shuttered to make the honeyed gold of their surroundings turn to cool blues and mysterious black. Louis is Lestat's palette and the emotion that exists between them burns in prismatic hues.

Louis shifts his leg and shudders helplessly when he settles back down onto Lestat, fingers clutching. Louis's head is thrown back and when Lestat thinks of the curve of Louis’ brow, he thinks of swans floating serenely. The gleaming blood sweat on Louis's chest snags and holds the light from the lantern suspended, swaying, above them and Lestat makes an incoherent sound as Louis's thighs tighten against his.

Lestat feels the sudden urge to look away because Louis's face is suffused with some otherness that makes it hard for Lestat to see him properly…to process Louis.

"Look at me." Louis demands, hips working. Lestat does, bringing one hand up over Louis's smooth skin to cup the back of his head.

"Where have I seen you before?" Lestat whispers.

Louis does not blink at the strange question, he only moves faster upon Lestat, holding his gaze. When Lestat begins to shudder Louis leans forward and takes his mouth, catching his soft cries. Lestat's taste and Lestat's thrusts send Louis sailing away a moment later and in their trembling ecstasy Lestat paints Louis in a thousand colors, organic and intense.

Clinging.

They hold in this way until the sweat on their skin cools and Lestat thinks that the fire has dimmed enough to spare his sight. Louis's face is nestled in Lestat's neck and his breath is humid, opulent with warmth in the coolness of the room. Lestat falls backward and pulls Louis with him. Louis sighs when Lestat's cock slides wetly from inside him and he curls around Lestat to amend his loss.

"Maybe I'm something you made up." Louis says in a sleepy voice.

Lestat memorizes the warp and weft of each damp strand of ebony, seeing patterns in the way Louis's hair weaves through itself. Spirals on Louis's fine neck, strands adhered to his temple.

"I never fashioned a creature like you, Louis," Lestat pronounces, with finality. "But you may have passed me in a dream once."

"Well, I'm glad I came back, then."

Lestat's heart squeezes at the innocent words and he tightens his arms a little. Louis hums for a while.

"As am. I."

Louis's fingers circle Lestat's nipple and Lestat can see Louis watching, absorbed. The small attention holds the echo of earlier building tension and Lestat knows that Louis will doze for a while and then awaken later, fully primed. The thought becomes pooled heat at the small of Lestat's back.

"What color am I now?" Louis murmurs on the edge of sleep. It's then that he often says such things, as though he can read Lestat's mind.

"Plum." Lestat answers, resolving to paint him just so.

FIN


End file.
